Kumo no Namida
by Panzer Panda
Summary: Rain inspires the strangest tales weaved by the oddest minds. Namikawa is late for work after spacing out, and Mido has something to say about his dear friend's chess habits. Inconspicuous NamikawaXMido. Read, and review!


**kumo no namida**

A gray blanket seemed to have descended upon Tokyo, smothering away all color and joy that could have ever existed on the exterior. Perhaps inside those malls there would exist the warmth that so many sought after on days like these. But there was always the _'drip drip'_ of coats, wettened by the blasts of cannons from the heavens and the sounds that could be heard faintly within those walls. Even in the deepest parts of a building one could hear what could have been the cries of the ground as it endured the numerous attacks from above.

Namikawa liked to sort out the moments of a heavy rain in numbered events. The first occurrence was the descent of the gray sheet, carried by the rough and tempestuous hands of the wind and dropped carelessly upon the world without a second thought. If he was lucky, the wind would have second thoughts about leaving such an object where it was, pick it up again, and swiftly carry it elsewhere. However, so often did this not happen that he almost wanted to scold the wind itself for such indolence as leaving sheets of clouds to descend upon an entire city of those who could so appreciate a comforting day. The second occurrence was impact of the blanket upon touching the ground- unpredictable blasts of wind coming like screams and kicks of a child in a tantrum or nightmare. A world at unrest.

And finally the third event. The endless deluge of tears from the child and the screams of complaint as the young one rolled about the gray blanket, tangling himself in it and twisting about the already grotesque patterns of the clouds, occasionally showing those flashes of dancing light that shone through the ragged holes so desperately only to be beaten back and forced to retreat to the world above. The sounds of the tears hitting the ground with endless inhuman cruelty, the discord of it all blending all together into an ugly picture of the tears of the clouds, the inharmonious sobs of the wind and the screams of agony of the slave, the dirt, the lowly yet so significant dirt.

It was an odd feeling, to be caught in this rain. A feeling that he enjoyed, but knew he shouldn't have. Quite like the feeling of enjoying something you should not be indulging in at all, indulging the sweet taste of rebellion upon your lips and the additional emotions that were as follows- thrill, satisfaction, and the like. And yet there was no sweet taste, no thrill and no satisfaction- just a plain feeling of pleasure in its purest form. The feeling that all sins and good deeds alike were washed away and the idea that whatever he was and whatever he did, he was clean. Yet there always existed the sensation that he had something so much better to do.

"Namikawa!" a voice called from behind him. Here he caught himself having been too absorbed on his muses, and not even paying attention to his obligations and the like. Turning, he found his eyes resting on the image of a man known as Shingo Mido. Namikawa noted that he was only slightly wet, a sign that he had been both running and only recently exposed to the pouring rain. His suit clung to his body and so did the formal shirt he was wearing underneath, and no bag was in sight, which meant that he had probably either left it at home in a rush or had already been to the Yotsuba building and arrived for work.

_Work._ The word went through Namikawa's mind like a lightning bolt as he hastily rose his dripping left hand to glance at the expensive watch that was firmly strapped about his wrist and he saw in the quite plain and matter-of-fact hands of time a pattern weaved in a sign that spelled impending trouble- the fact that he had two minutes to start work, and he was supposed to have arrived earlier than nine 'o' clock anyways.

"Mido," he acknowledged finally after sensing an impatience in the man's manner, though common etiquette forbade a conspicuous display of so. "Good morning," he said simply, resisting from licking the drops of sweet-tasting rain that dripped down his face and upon his lips, so tempting as they were. "I'm late."

"Yes, you finally noticed," the other man said, covering his annoyance with the thinnest and gaudiest sheet of politeness possible. "What are you doing standing out in the rain? You'll catch cold."

"Musing.." Namikawa replied, reaching up to touch one of his wet locks of hair that hung in his face and tuck it behind his ear. "Ha, gomenasai. We need to get to the building now, ne?" he murmured, not quite sounding the part of a tardy businessman.

Mido frowned, his soft brown eyes staring into Namikawa's manner of movement, though it came out as an awkward stare through the wet locks of brown hair that was hanging carelessly over his forehead and covering up a bit of his eyes. Namikawa noted that his glasses were off, folded neatly and placed carefully into his pocket. He looked quite nice without them, without the look of studiousness upon his face, now drawing attention to those naive, pretty eyes. The best feature on the man- his soft eyes that spelled out the kindest welcomes even when his tongue snapped the most indignant retorts. He looked the picture of a concerned and curious father out here in the rain- arms folded, foot tapping and eyes questioning, though a touch of impatience and annoyance could be added, conveyed through his barely pouting lips and slightly raised head.

"Musing? Is that all you ever do, think about things? Get a hobby," Mido grumbled, reaching out and, to Namikawa's surprise, wrapping his right hand around the man's left upper arm and beginning a journey of dragging him to the Yotsuba Headquarters, where they were, at the moment, supposed to be seated and working away like all important company executives. Namikawa could not help but to laugh slightly.

He didn't even try to pull away from Mido's grip on his upper arm. It was comfortable, even, to have someone touching you and pulling you along in a culture full of people who found touching each other, be it a friendly slap on the back or the entwining of hands, unpresentable. "A hobby? You _do_ know I-"

"Chess is not a hobby, Namikawa. It's still thinking, only bastardized into black and white pieces representing the crucial individuals of a war in medieval Europe," the other man interrupted quickly, enjoying his victory in the argument through the silence of the other man that followed, only that this silence was more than slightly butchered by the ceaseless sound of heavy rain hitting concrete pavement. "Now, fencing, on the other hand.."

"Fencing is the art of wearing a fat suit, poking the enemy and attempting to look elegant as you do it," Namikawa said in deadpan. Mido snapped his head back to glare at the other man, though it was set off by his conspicuous pouting. Amused, Namikawa countinued, "Therefore, chess, being both more intelligent and less demanding of both money and humiliation, would probably be more appropriate."

"Say what you want, I still say chess is just thinking in the form of black-and-white pawn prostitution," he argued pathetically, and his friend could not bite back a fit of laughter at his words. Stopping, he glared at the black-haired man and said outright, "Don't laugh at me, you pawn pimp!" And this only made Namikawa laugh harder, clutching at his stomach in full-blown, unrestrained mirth.

"P-pawn pimp?" he asked, words hardly comprehensible through his laughter. "M-Mido, what kind of i-insult-" he paused, now just chuckling, and continued, "is 'pawn pimp'?" Namikawa straightened, though mirth was still dancing in his eyes, and was so evident Mido almost envied the younger man.

"The first thing that came to mind," he defended, pouting. "C'mon, let's get to work. You're soaked," he said, trying to divert the subject from his incompetence at forming insults.

Namikawa smiled, and reached out, taking a hold of Mido's right hand in his left and pulling him forwards towards the Yotsuba building. "Sure, sure. After work, though, I want to continue this little debate we're having about the cons and pros of shogi and fencing. It certainly is something," he said, ignoring the fact that Mido's face had turned a color of pure red as he dragged the man towards the building.

_terminus_


End file.
